Sometimes I let myself think “No one needs to know my past because it is not one’s past that dictates who they are, it is who they are at that point in time that dictates who they are and what they deserve" and yet, I don’t allow myself to believe such an ideal can apply to someone who could be identified as a criminal; but if I let it apply to myself, then should it not apply to he who did me wrong?
The Writing Process - In Pictures
COULD THIS BE ANY MORE ACCURATE
THIS IS THE MOST WONDERFULLY ACCURATE THING I’VE EVER LAID MY EYES ON
There is an inordinate amount of banging one’s head against the wall.
Current writing problems:
You know you’re insane when nearly burning your house down gives you fic ideas …
*SO GLAD NO ONE ELSE WAS HOME*
So, that Idea I came up with earlier …
Inspired by Dragon Age and my twisted ankle …
Here’s what I ended up writing. It’s like … a far way in to what I will write … but I needed to get it out now …
It had been a … mere coincidence when Loki found the Captain’s sketch book. It was curiosity that made him open it and intrigue that had him on the sofa in the Avenger’s mansion for hours admiring the detail that Steven put into his drawings.
Some of them were little things, just a scene, a moment, captured in the warrior’s eye and drawn onto paper. Sometimes it was an Avenger in a particular situation.
Loki couldn’t help but chuckle when he came across one of Clint asleep on the sofa he was sitting on right now, sprawled out, one leg dangling of the end, forearm over his face. Steve had even gone to the trouble of getting the exact moment in his mind of the archer breathing out, his lips pursed just so that it seemed comical and yet realistic.
Loki felt something spark in his mind’s eye and he flipped over the page to a black page, collected the pencil from the coffee table and just … started.
At first it as mere lines, then the piece grew in form. Loki tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear, feet pulled up underneath him, as he continued. His tongue began to stick out of the corner of his mouth as he worked.
It was a memory. Well, at least that’s what he thinks. Thor Odinson standing in the opening to a great hall, helm in hand (he even remembered the feathers), chest rising as his lungs filled with Asgardian air. He looked worried, perhaps even concerned. Loki didn’t know why, he just drew it, pulled it from the depths of his mind and sketched it out.
He’d finished the moment Steve walked in.
“Loki, have you seen my sketch-” Steve stopped when he saw the tall man tucked up into the couch, item in question in his lap. “Sorry” Loki blurted and closed it, pushing it into his hands as he fled the room, brushing by Thor on the way out.
“What seems the problem?” Thor asked, glancing back in the direction of Loki’s retreat.
“Uh. I … don’t … know” Steve said as he flipped open the pad and came across Loki’s drawing.
“Thor?” Steve’s eyes didn’t leave the drawing. “Yes Steven?” Thor started to walk over to him. “I-I didn’t know your brother could draw” Steve said as the Aesir stood over him, looking over his shoulder at the sketch.
“He … he used to” Thor replied, heart so heavy it was in his boots.
This however, will be beta’d before I post the whole thing … This isn’t the end product of this part …
I’ve even got a name for it too …
Definitely needs work though
*precedes previous ‘head/desk’ activity*
Some how … my twisted ankle and Dragon Age of all things has given me a fic idea
*repeatedly bashes head against desk*
An Open Window and a Closed Door
Constructive critisism and comments are helpful and I’m sorry if it’s seems as though it’s moving to fast …
I have barely any motivation as it is … and it’s nearly midnight … and I’m about to face plant my laptop if I don’t go to bed soon …
Realizes she just sat down … at a table … to write today …
OH MY GOD NO!
THE WORLD IS COMING TO END!
NEXT THING YOU KNOW I’LL BE SHIPPING STEVE/PEPPER BECAUSE TONY’S AN ASS AND THEY’D GET ON SO WEL-
Ah crap … that happened weeks ago …
oh well *shrugs*
I’ve gone insane … I’m no longer contorting myself on my bed to write … definitely gone insane then …
Will be writing “An Open Window and a Closed Door" today …
Also, on an unrelated note … I wish my cats would stop trying to kill each other … and I wish Darcy didn’t constantly have his period … or at least find a way to mute yourselves … then I don’t have to hear you practically clawing each other’s eyes out while I work … SHUT UP!